The Cupboard
by GreenEyesGreySkies
Summary: When the Slytherins decide to pull a seemingly harmless prank on Draco's new boyfriend and longtime rival, Harry Potter, things don't necessarily go as planned - and Draco finds himself having to save the day. Hogwarts AU 8th Year. Established relationship. Beware of fluff.


**drarry** _prompted by rubbin-yer-nubbin_

**Prompt:** _harry has a panic attack when he's locked in a cupboard as a prank and draco wants to know why! ((Pre existing relationship, 8th year fic, talks about child hood and super fluffiness?!)) _

**Author's Note: I do enjoy a good fluffy protective!Draco – not to mention a bit of insecure!Harry in the mix. Anyway, I'm sorry for the extreme lack of updates. I know that I keep apologizing over and over, but with all of the chaos and whatnot going on in my life, I honestly don't have much time to write… But here is a little thing for you in the meantime!**

_**~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~**_

"Shh!"

"You shh!"

"No,_ you_ shh!"

Draco dropped the novel he was reading onto his lap and looked up sharply. "Shut the fuck up, both of you," he hissed, and the two voices fell silent for a moment. Then, the bed curtains flew open, exposing Draco to the light of the room – He blinked and squinted a little.

"Draco!" Blaise Zabini exclaimed. Theo Nott stepped out as well, looking equally put off. They were both staring at the bed with disapproval. "Bloody hell, this is the_ third_ time he's been here this week!"

Draco tossed the book aside and shot his friends a dirty look. "Obviously," he whispered. "How else do you think that Potter and I—"

"Ew!" Nott shouted. "Don't!"

"Shut _up_," Draco snapped quietly, glancing over at the curled up, sleeping form next to him. "You'll wake him."

Draco could sense Potter's hand still warm on his thigh, where the other boy had left it just minutes before he had fallen into a quiet slumber, and felt his cheeks grow slightly pink. Of course, even though they'd been dating for three months now, Draco still couldn't believe that he and Potter were a thing; Potter had somehow forgiven Draco for all of the wrongs he'd committed and had actually made an effort to let Draco into his life starting their unofficial Eighth year at Hogwarts. Admittedly, Draco had known it to be because of some influence on Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley's parts, and for that, he had made a gracious exception for them regarding his and Potter's 'your friends do _not_ have to be my friends' grant. Draco was cordial with them. And with Potter… Draco let his eyes trail over the cropped nest of black hair poking out from the duvet... Draco had grown more than cordial. They'd be having _fun_. And that was something that Draco had not had in a long, long time.

"You've got to tell him to leave," Blaise declared. Draco looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he asked. "And _who_ on Merlin's great Earth is going to make me?"

Blaise and Nott exchanged glances before looking back to Draco with matching expressions of smugness. "If you won't make him leave, we will," Blaise warned, with a calculating glint in his eyes. Nott just smirked.

Draco raised his other eyebrow. "As if you could," he challenged.

Blaise and Nott looked at each other again and grinned. It was a bit troubling, actually. "All right," Nott said, and in a flash, he lunged forward and shoved Draco back, temporarily disarming him; meanwhile, Blaise whipped his wand out from behind his back and pointed it at Draco, shouting something unintelligible. Rattled, Draco yelped, and suddenly everything was quite dark; he realised that Blaise had simply spelled his jumper over his head. Enraged, he thrashed a little and tried to pull the cloth from his face – no such luck.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU TWO!" he screamed, although he knew that the thick wool jumper would muffle the effects of his threat. He heard some cackling, and then Potter's sleepy – 'Wha? What are you guys –?' before a few more shouts and then… nothing.

"Hey… Hey!" Draco yelled, but there was no response. He tried to swivel off the bed, but his foot hit the bedpost instead. Cursing, he rubbed it and screamed again. Still nothing. Draco grumbled and scratched at the jumper fruitlessly a few more times before dropping his shoulders and sighing with annoyance. Bloody bastards, Blaise and Nott – Draco rested his head in his hands and clenched his jaw. If anything bad were to happen to Potter, anything at_ all_ – he was going to pull something over on Blaise and Nott, and it wasn't going to be as cutesy as a spelled wool jumper.

After Draco had spent a few more minutes picking at the (literally) invisible pieces of lint on his silk track bottoms, he heard movement coming from the entrance of the dorm room. He shot up, almost hitting his foot on the bedpost again, and bristled in defence. "Take the spell off of me this instant!" he shouted. "I swear, I'll—"

Before he could finish, a sudden light hit his eyes – just as the darkness had hit them earlier – and he realised that someone had pulled the jumper from his head. Draco blinked a few times before glaring at the glowing blob of a person in front of him. "If this is either Zabini or Nott, I am going to give you a ten second head-start in order to regain my proper eyesight," he said evenly. "Then, I am going to come for you, and I am going to stick my foot so far up your_ arse_ that you will feel it for—"

"Malfoy, we need your help," the blob spoke, and Draco stopped. It didn't sound like either of his friends, nor anyone who lived in the Slytherin dorms. He frowned and blinked some more, and the little dancing flashes of lights and circles began to fade away. Instead of a blob standing in front of him, now, it was merely Neville Longbottom. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"I don't know how the hell _you_ got in here, but I can't help you right now," he snapped, hopping off of the bed and slipping his feet into the trainers there. "I've got more important things to take care of at the moment." Satisfied with his speech, he grabbed his cloak from the chair sitting at his desk and began striding towards the exit – then Longbottom spoke again.

"It's Harry," he called out.

Draco froze, and then whirled around. "What?" he demanded, stalking back towards Longbottom once more. "Where did those brainless twats take him?"

Longbottom shook his head. "Down by the Great Hall," he said quickly, twiddling his thumbs with obvious anxiety. "The alcove to the left of it, to be exact – there are some storage cupboards hidden in the back, he's trapped in there, screaming –"

"_Screaming_?" Draco yelled, gaping at Longbottom with horror. "Why hasn't anyone gotten him out yet?"

Longbottom looked distressed. "We tried! I mean, we could hear Harry's shouts all the way from the library, but when we got there, Hermione tried pulling on the handle and then spelling it but it wouldn't open… and then Nott and Zabini came slinking out of another alcove, and Nott confessed that he had fucked up with some kind of entrapment spell... So then, Ron and Hermione had sent me down to Slytherin with Zabini –" Longbottom glanced behind him. "But he was too afraid to come into the actual room, so I think that he left."

"For Merlin's sake!" Draco exclaimed. He grabbed Longbottom's wrist and started to tug him towards the door. "I'll deal with Nott and Zabini later – just lead to me Potter, _now_!"

Longbottom nodded and took the lead then, shaking Draco's hand from his wrist and scampering down the dorm hallway and out the portrait entrance. Draco followed him promptly, shaking his head and muttered under his breath. He should've known that his dorm mates would pull some kind of dumb prank on Potter sooner or later – but he had supposed that he himself would have been capable enough to stop it. What if Nott and Blaise had double hexed Potter? What if Potter was lying on the floor of that cupboard, losing blood, or air, or… Draco hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Stupid, stupid!" he chastised himself.

"What?" Longbottom asked, turning his head slightly as he led Draco towards the Great Hall entrance.

"Nothing," Draco muttered, and then glanced up in acknowledgement of the group of students surrounding one of the corridor alcoves to the left of the Great Hall. There weren't many; Granger was there, as well as both of the Weasleys, Thomas, Finnigan, and a few faces that Draco did not initially recognise. It didn't seem like much was happening – then, he noticed the slight noise coming from the alcove and the scratches and scrapes at the wooden cupboard door. And then, a bloodcurdling scream.

"Please… PLEASE!" It was Potter, his sobs muffled and distorted as he pounded on the wood with frenzied aggression. "Let me out! Please, I'll be, I'll be –"

The sobs turned into screams again, and Draco felt a pang of terror and panic in his chest as he pushed past the crowd and got on his knees to press his ear to the door. "Potter!" he shouted. "Potter, Potter, it's me!"

There was only sniffling and choked gasps for a moment. "Draco…?" Potter croaked, and Draco's heart felt both heavy and light at the same time. "Draco," Potter cried again. "Please, help, let me out, I can't breathe…"

"I'm here, it's going to be okay," Draco assured, but Potter was still sobbing. It was terrible to listen to.

"I can't _breathe_," Potter repeated now, slamming on the door with his fists. "Let me OUT!"

"I'm going to get you out," Draco insisted, shoving at the lock and then cursing at it. "I'm going to – _damn_ it!"

Potter began to choke again, gasping so heavily that Draco could almost feel the warmth of the other boy's breath on his face. "Draco, I can't, I can't –" he began to scream again. "I can't_, no_, don't _leave _me, PLEASE…"

Both shocked and horrified by Potter's extreme reaction to being locked up, Draco shook the handle harder, shouting frantic promises through it to his panicked boyfriend – before aiming his wand at the door in an act of frustrated desperation and yelling, 'REDUCTO!' with all of his might.

There was a large flash and boom, smoke rising into the air, and Draco coughed and lunged forward into the cupboard – just as Potter fell out of it. They collided instantly; Potter's black hair was littered with wood pieces and his skin was covered in dirt and small, pink scratches, and then he collapsed face first into Draco's wool jumper - unconscious. Draco wrapped his arms around Potter's torso and glared up at everyone else – who had all gathered around them and were, for the most part, all shouting things – and jerked his head.

"Go away, all of you," he demanded sharply, holding Potter tighter.

Weasley ignored him, crouching down by Potter's side and grimacing. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, Malfoy?" he exclaimed. "What if Harry had been in your blasting aim - his face is all mangled - You could have_ killed_ him with that spell!"

"I got him out, didn't I?" Draco argued. "With no help from you lot, I'll have you know!"

Granger stepped up now and gestured at Potter. "We have to take him to the Hospital Wing."

"He can't go anywhere right now, can't you see that?" Draco snapped. "He's fine with me - you all need to stop crowding him!"

Weasley puffed up indignantly. "No, Malfoy, Harry would be fine if he _wasn't _with you!" he countered. "It had been _your _friends that had put him there in the first place! Why didn't you stop them? You don't even know how traumatising it is for Harry to be in a place like that –"

"Ron," Granger said softly, interrupting him.

Draco frowned and studied both of them. "Traumatising?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

Weasley and Granger exchanged glances before looking around at all of their peers; Draco frowned again. Then, he surveyed the crowd, save for Granger and Weasley, and shot each and every one of them The Glare. "You all need to leave – _now_!" he shouted. "Go!"

There were some grumbles, but it seemed that most of the others had gotten the message, and after a few moments it was just the four of them left in the empty corridor. Draco looked back up at Granger and Weasley. "Explain," he commanded.

It was clear that Weasley had not forgiven Draco for his previous snark - he folded his arms across his chest and gestured at the crumpled ball of Potter in Draco's arms. "I don't reckon he'd like us telling you," he remarked. "He doesn't like telling anybody."

Draco pursed his lips. "All right, Weasel, one thing: I am not just _anybody_. And the sooner that you can recognise that, the sooner we can get past all of – this!" he took one hand off of Potter's back briefly to gesture. "I am a part of Potter's life now, and therefore, I am a part of yours, all right? You are going to accept that, and then you are going to tell me what the bloody fuck I want to know!"

Weasley gaped a bit at that, seemingly unable to process Draco's outburst, and Granger gave Draco a small, dry smile. "It was his childhood," she began quietly, and Draco looked to her. "The cupboard. He _lived _in one. Slept there, ate there, was punished there – I don't reckon that you know much about his aunt and uncle?" Draco shook his head silently, and she continued. "Harry had… well, he had been forced into a little cupboard under the stairs for years. His aunt, uncle, and cousin had been rather awful to him. I… We don't know exactly what went on in there, but…" she bit her lip. "He doesn't really fancy small spaces anymore. That's all he'll say."

For once, Draco was speechless. How hadn't he known this about Potter? How had Draco missed such a large part of the largest part of his own life? His jaw fell slack, and he gazed down at the unconscious Potter in his arms – the Potter who had encountered Death too many times to count, the Potter who had looked upon the face of evil and beaten it, like none other had the courage to… Potter: the _hero_, the Boy Who Lived. But it seemed, Potter was just that… a _boy_. Just a boy. And it was horrible, and incredible, that such a boy – such a young, pure boy – could appear so strong, and yet… so damaged. There was a sharp pang in Draco's heart as he thought of how Potter had hid his fears from Draco, and how, deep inside, Draco had always done the same. Potter was just a boy, just like him... And they hadn't been honest enough with one another.

Weasley cleared his throat loudly, bringing Draco back. "Harry is… Harry is really… well… He's our best friend," Weasley murmured. "And if you hurt him, or leave him, I will not hesitate to find a reason to heave your snotty arse straight into an early incarceration."

Draco clenched his jaw as to not snap at the brazen redheaded Gryffindor standing above him. He supposed that such a statement from the Weasel would have to be the best acceptance he would receive for now. "I am not going to hurt him," he muttered. "And like hell I'll ever leave him."

Potter began to stir a bit in Draco's arms now, and Draco perked up to hold Potter a bit closer. At this, Granger placed a hand on Weasley's arm and began to pull him away from the scene. "Take care of him before you bring him back, all right?" she murmured, and Draco nodded at her before the two Gryffindors disappeared from the corridor. Potter made a little noise and wiggled a bit before removing his face from Draco's chest and blinking a few times – there was dust and scuff marks stuck to the thin tracks of dried tears trailing down Potter's cheeks, and his eyes were slightly red from sobbing. He glanced around and observed the rubble of the door before gazing back at Draco.

"Malfoy," Potter croaked, his lip quivering a bit. "I didn't…"

"It's okay," Draco said, and Potter shook his head.

"No, no it's not," Potter bit his lip as if to keep himself from blowing up, "I didn't mean… I don't why, I just… I don't normally _do_ that…"

"It's okay," Draco repeated, touching Potter's hand with tentative caution.

Potter's lip quivered again; he frowned and looked away. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he said suddenly. "I'm supposed to be this new, powerful leader because I defeated some legendary evil or something – they put me on the cover of some book again, you know – I'm nineteen years old, and I can't even get myself out of a fucking box!" He let out a huge sigh and laughed a little. "But I don't know, Malfoy, maybe you know this, and maybe you don't… I'm afraid of a lot of things. And nobody seems to realise that I can't control it."

Draco knitted his brows as Potter lurched forward and buried his face into the crook of Draco's neck, hiding there as if embarrassed by what he'd just admitted, and Draco couldn't help but wonder – what sort of terrible human beings would force someone to keep all of this inside? The entire Wizarding World? Potter certainly didn't owe them anything. Not at all.

"Want to know something, Potter?" Draco asked, squeezing the other boy's hand and listening for a response. There was none, but Potter moved his face a bit against Draco's skin. It was enough for Draco. "_I'm_ afraid of a lot of things as well. Like, for example, deep water and almost all types of rodents... Also, silk worms and of the way House Elves feet look." He sucked in a slightly shaky breath. "I'm afraid of visiting my father in Azkaban and of direct contact to my left forearm. I'm mostly afraid of disappointing you."

Potter lifted his face from Draco's shoulder and peered at him. "You're lying," he murmured.

"I'm not."

"You are _not_ afraid of House Elves' feet."

"Better believe it."

Potter grinned slightly and then sighed. "I guess… I don't want you to see me as something vulnerable," he admitted. "Something that you have to be careful about offending and messing up around – Honestly, Malfoy, I had just wanted things to be light and carefree with us, leave the past behind. But I fucked up."

Draco shook his head. "We're never going to be that couple who can leave everything that had hurt us behind," he said. "And I don't want to be. I don't want to just talk about Quidditch matches or the shitty weather or the quality of the pumpkin juice in the morning – although, yes, I want to share those moments with you as well – but if we just ignore the things that we don't want to remember, we won't have anything." He paused. "And Potter, I'm _never_ going to see you as vulnerable. You're my hero - you've always been. And I mean that."

Potter looked like he was going to explode again. "Now I'm afraid of disappointing _you_," he whispered.

Draco wrinkled his brow a bit and reached up to touch Potter's jaw; it was so square and so strong, but it was delicate – like it could shatter into a billion pieces in a matter of seconds. _Explode._ Draco inspected Potter's face some more. It was a contradiction, a miracle of sorts, a beacon of light and dark and happy and hurt and human, and Draco just wanted to kiss it all over. And, he would. His touch had turned into a cupping of sort, as Draco lifted Potter's chin to make the other boy look him in the eyes, and then, Draco kissed him. Really, really kissed him, with everything he had and used to have and would eventually have, because Potter should have all of Draco, too. And then, he drew back just enough to hover by Potter's dusty, scratched up ear.

"You don't have to be perfect for anyone, you know," he murmured.

Potter leaned back a bit farther to look Draco in the eye again. "For you?"

Draco shook his head. "Definitely not for me."

Potter smiled weakly. "Neither do you."

Draco bit his lip and tried to keep his countenance void of the sadness that had rooted itself so deeply within his being for the past few years. He smiled in the same way. "Neither do I."

Potter let his gaze linger on Draco's face for a few moments longer before jerking his head a little. "Well… We don't want to be here when Filch finds this mess, do we?" He briefly studied their surroundings and grimaced. "Let's get out of here."

Draco nodded. "I'm going to take you to the Hospital Wing."

Potter made another face. "No, I don't need to go there. I'm fine."

"You've got cuts all over you—"

"I'm fine, Draco," Potter repeated, now with a genuine smile on his lips. "I just want to go back to sleep. I was quite rudely interrupted."

Draco fought the urge to grin like an idiot. "I'm going to hex them halfway round the universe for that," he promised.

Potter laughed. "I'll hex 'em round the other half."

Draco felt his lip twitch into an actual smile as well, and all of the sudden, he felt curiously free and light – not in the shallow, everything-is-well way; it was more like relief, but it was perfect. He wouldn't take it any other way. "I'll walk you to Gryffindor Tower, then," he said, nudging at Potter's leg to get him moving. "I'm certain that you've had enough of the dungeons for tonight."

Potter tilted his head. "You'll stay with me, won't you?"

Draco paused; he had never really spent much time in Gryffindor, as Potter had always offered to stay in the Slytherin dorm – Draco supposed it was the Gryffindor in Potter that had made him do it, and the Slytherin in Draco that had caused him to refrain. But, he supposed, it couldn't hurt.

"Weasley might have a mental breakdown," he mused.

Potter snorted. "Don't worry, he'll manage."

"Oh, trust me, that hadn't been a worry of mine."

Potter snorted again and pushed himself out of Draco's grasp and up into a standing position. He teetered only for a moment before looking down at Draco and holding a hand out, a slightly crooked smile on his lips.

"Ready?" he asked.

Draco gazed up at Potter, who had just been locked in a cupboard, blasted unconscious, and then inclined to pour his heart out to Draco – and now here he was, standing tall and offering his help. Because that was in his nature. Because that was who he was.

Draco grinned and took Potter's hand, letting the other boy heave him up. "Yes," he said, and as they began to walk away from the busted cupboard, he laced his fingers with Potter's.


End file.
